


Sugar and Spice

by blueteak



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Figging, Fingerfucking, M/M, Sado-Masochism, Spanking, Strapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-28
Updated: 2011-10-28
Packaged: 2017-10-25 01:17:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueteak/pseuds/blueteak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik and Charles discover that they have a few kinks in common. Erik exposes Charles to a few more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar and Spice

**Author's Note:**

> De-anoning (and blushing like mad). Written for [ this prompt at First Class Kink ](http://1stclass-kink.livejournal.com/7761.html?thread=14439249#t14439249)

  
Title: Sugar and Spice  
Pairing: Charles/Erik  
Warnings: Figging, Spanking, Strapping, PWP  
Notes: De-anoning (and blushing like mad). Written for [ this prompt at First Class Kink ](http://1stclass-kink.livejournal.com/7761.html?thread=14439249#t14439249)

Erik twisted his fingers inside Charles one last time, then slowly withdrew them, hardening even further at the feel of that smooth muscle slowly expelling him from its soft, strong heat.

  
He stroked a finger gently over the newly tightened hole, marveling that it could so quickly conceal evidence of how he’d wrapped one arm around Charles’s waist in an attempt to keep him bent and still while he’d fingered him open, gently at first and then with increasingly rough, erratic stabs that made Charles jerk himself backwards and forwards, attempting to fuck himself on Erik’s fingers, to take some control back from Erik even though he’d signed it away willingly when Erik had whispered to him of heat, more heat than he’d ever imagined possible, and spice, the offer of a tingling sensation in the skin that could suppress the sensation of thousands of other minds skating over his own.

  
Charles couldn’t help but buck up against the teasing finger, still coated with slick. He knew from the surface of Erik’s thoughts (he would not allow himself to go deeper; he had never been the type to unwrap presents early, after all) that something new and nerve-tingling was coming his way.

  
He wanted it, oh he wanted it in its own right as well as because of the sheer want and control and love coming off of Erik at the thought of it. But he didn’t want to relinquish the fingers and their stamina, the way they could fulfill so many functions, teasing around his ring and scraping with a hint of nail when he got impatient, or pounding into him and hooking just so, or just staying snug inside during a spanking, curling a little when he clenched at a smack, providing a tendril of pleasure at the center of pain.

  
But Erik withdrew the finger and punished his efforts with a quick spank, aiming the blow low across both cheeks where Charles’s now sensitive hole would feel the impact most. Charles shuddered, bit his lip and almost let go. Erik’s hand at the base of his cock stopped him. Erik straightened him up and smiled “not yet, schatz,” before pushing him to hands and knees on the bed, re-arranging his position until he was satisfied that Charles’s bum was up high enough and that his knees were spread wide enough.

  
Erik couldn’t resist spreading those cheeks wider, digging into the crease roughly with his thumbs and pulling until Charles was completely open to him.

  
Charles groaned and tried instinctively to clench. Erik clucked his tongue. “You’ll pay for that later,” he promised before diving in and pressing a kiss to the place he’d worked over, teasingly darting his tongue in and forcing Charles to grip the sheets that much tighter.

  
Before Erik, Charles would have considered what was going to happen next to be the main event. Make that the only event. There would be some fumbling prep in the toilets/back room/office, and then a cock would sink in and in an in and then ease out, before settling into a frantic rhythm.

  
Erik, however, took his sweet time. Where fingers had teased before, he now sent his cock to circle before finally plunging all the way in, leaving Charles gasping, backs of thighs shaking and sweaty against Erik’s.

  
Erik gave him a moment to adjust, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against Charles’s bony hips, but his words were the opposite of gentle. “I’m going to turn you over my knee as soon as I’m done fucking you, Charles. You’ll kick…and squirm…and…writhe all over, spreading your legs in your stuggles, showing me your hole, showing me exactly how roughly I’ve fucked you. But I won’t stop. No. Not until I’m convinced you’ve had enough.”

  
As Erik intended him to do, Charles clenched at that, urging Erik to pick up the pace. Every time Erik withdrew, Charles raised himself up and pushed back, presenting his arse to Erik to do whatever he wished with it.

  
Erik shuddered to see such hungry submissiveness spread out before him, to have someone trust him to provide pleasure and pain in the right measure.

  
God knew he’d dealt out punishment before and enjoyed it, toying with men before they died, making it seem like he’d send them to bed without supper instead of severing their carotid arteries.

  
When he’d seen Charles, sweet, naïve, self-sacrificing Charles looking at him under his lashes when he took his turn at the punching bag, or flushing and flinching when he talked about discipline or punishment, part of him had sickened at the thought of what Charles might want from him, horrified that he would put himself in the same category as those other men.

  
Until he realized that Charles wasn’t thinking of him in the same way that he imagined himself, that he never had seen Erik as Erik saw himself. Charles saw Erik capable of providing him with a different kind of strength.

  
Erik came to see that sweet, naïve, Charles required additional adjectives. Rebellious. Overly confident. Careless.

  
When he found out that Charles had enclosed himself in a mirrored room with Banshee and told him to concentrate on cracking one pane, he tightened his fists, fantasizing about stalking over to Charles, who had loosened his tie and was laughing, relaxed and relieved now that they’d made it out in one piece.

  
Erik would make Charles straighten and back up to the bookcase, back up until the shelves dug into his spine. He’d come closer and closer, saying nothing, holding Charles’s gaze until his pupils, dilated with fear and lust, drowned out the blue.

  
Then he’d take a fistful of Charles’s shirt and yank him over his knee, lecturing about appropriate safety measures and unnecessary risks between smacks that would slowly spread their heat throughout Charles’s entire body. And he would keep spanking, keep Charles pitching forward with every blow, until he learned his lesson, stopped resisting, and came. And Charles would love it.

  
Erik found out just how much Charles would love it when he heard a sudden intake of breath and saw those pupils blown wide. He may have been broadcasting that particular fantasy at a high frequency.

  
During their evening game of chess Charles oh-so-casually asked Erik what he thought of Charles’s training program.

  
Erik sacrificed a bishop and quirked his brow. “I wouldn’t be here, Charles, if I didn’t think you were doing good, were an excellent teacher for the others. And…also for me,” he admitted as Charles’s knight jumped.

  
Charles had the beginnings of an atom-splitting smile on his face before Erik held up his hand for silence. Charles tried to control a gulp, but Erik thought he detected strains of fear and arousal. Charles was probably thinking that Erik’s hand, with its long, tapered fingers and broad, rough, palm, would hurt. And he would be right.

  
“As I said, Charles, you do amazing work. But you’re not as careful about protecting yourself as you should be. You take foolish risks.” Charles held his gaze, barely noticing that Erik had captured his queen.

  
“And what would you do about my risk taking, Erik?” Charles asked softly, licking lips he’d probably been biting all afternoon.

  
Erik smiled. “I think you know, Charles” he said steadily. “Check.”

  
Charles shook himself, seemingly lost in the play of light on the chessboard, and then pinned his king.

  
“You can’t really punish me, Erik,” he said, all traces of arousal and play absent from his voice. “I mean….I don’t want to make a decision about training Alex and then…and then…”

  
“And then find yourself presenting me with a belt to use on you,” Erik finished for him matter of factly.

  
Charles tensed, but met his eyes. “Exactly. I couldn’t handle being actually punished that way for something. It would feel...it would feel like giving up a part of myself that I’d rather retain.”

  
“I perfectly understand. But you do desire it, Charles. I may not be able to read minds but I know you’d let me bend you over that desk and stripe your arse right now. If I wanted to.”

  
Charles’s hand shook as he moved himself out of check again, though his voice was perfectly steady. “Yes.”

  
“Well?” asked Erik, even though it was technically his move.

  
“I….I do want you to discipline me. But not for any real decisions I make. Like today. I wouldn’t let you spank me for not taking extra precautions with Banshee. His comfort level with practicing the sonar sequence…”

Erik held up his hand again. If Charles got going on sonar sequences they’d never get back to the topic at hand.

  
“Oh…OK, well, I mean, I only want you to punish me for something like that if I ask you to. But…if I mouth off to you in private, if you give me an order like ‘make the bed--’ which I never will, just so you know—and I, say, roll my eyes and try to leave, then you can ask me again. Warn me about what I’ll get if I say no. And then” Charles smiled broadly “you can give it to me when I flip you off.”

  
Charles had managed to work himself up again with this narrative and had taken Erik with him. The thought of Charles mouthing off to him, flipping him off in order to get spanked….oh yes.

  
He’d grab him right by the wrist of the offending hand and secure him to the bed frame. He’d make Charles wait, knowing what he was going to do to him, knowing exactly what he was planning. And then he’d slowly withdraw his belt from the loops and show Charles no mercy.

  
Erik looked back to the board at the sound of Charles’s smirk-inflected “check.”

  
“Alright,” he breathed, and made a quick move, honestly relieved that Charles wasn’t asking him to make real decisions for him, that he wouldn’t be responsible on that level. At least not yet. Still, what had happened with Banshee today shouldn’t happen again. “But what should I do with you when I think you’re taking unnecessary risks?”

  
Charles smiled at him. “Tell me over chess.” He knocked back his drink and set down his glass, eyes bright. “Checkmate.”

  
Erik smiled and toppled his king. He stood, knocked back his own drink, and held out a hand to help Charles rise. Erik kissed him languorously, one hand fisting Charles’s hair and the other curling possessively around his waist.

  
They eventually made it upstairs, where, sure enough, the bed was unmade. Erik knew where to take it from there.

  
Erik didn’t use the strap terribly often, though, preferring to feel the sting on his palm when he sent Charles rocking forward with every blow.

  
He liked to have Charles’s freshly fucked arse positioned just so over his knees like it was now, his spent cock dangling free and beginning to harden again. He took his time, aiming the hardest blows near the center of Charles’s arse, making sure that he’d feel the impact to his very core.

  
Charles bit his lip hard as Erik’s hand caught the space where arse met thigh, then stiffened like a plank before bucking and twisting when Erik hit a spot he’d already worked over.

  
Erik paused in the spanking to slip a finger in Charles’s still glistening hole. He leaned over Charles’s sweat-soaked, red-flushed back to whisper “I told you, didn’t I, that you’d show it to me during your spanking. You are absolutely shameless.”

  
Erik finger-fucked him with one hand while keeping him anchored with the weight of his other arm around his waist. At this point, he wished he had another hand he could use to stroke up and down Charles’s side, gentling him in addition to stimulating and restricting him.

  
Charles began to seriously work himself back on the finger and rub himself on Erik. This earned him a warning. Charles, lost in a warm wave of want, need, more now, vaguely heard Erik say something about not trying to control this, that he should take what Erik had to give when Erik chose to give it.

  
Bent over Erik’s knee, as he was, sweat-soaked hair brushing the floor and deep red arse pointed in the air, Charles snorted. “How do you know I’m not controlling what we’re doing right now?” he asked, managing to sound every inch the arrogant brat despite being somewhat out of breath.

  
Erik smiled. Charles was cueing him to up the ante. He withdrew the finger and pulled Charles gently off his lap to kneel next to the chair.

  
Charles looked up, arrogance replaced by loss and confusion. Erik wanted at that moment to kiss the top of his head, brush his thumb over Charles’s tear tracks, and then pull him into a kiss. Charles, however, did not want that yet. Did not need that yet.

  
Erik gave him the firm order to stay and keep his eyes on the chair. If he moved, he’d get the strap and he wouldn’t get to come.

  
When he came back holding a thick finger of ginger and a knife, Charles was still kneeling and staring at a pattern in the wood, though Erik could see all of his non-telepathic senses straining to figure out what was going on.

  
He secured the base of the finger in a candlestick holder and placed the knife next to it on the floor, inches away from where Charles’s nose would be when he was taken back over Erik’s knee. Oh yes, he was going back over Erik’s knee for quite some time.

  
“Eyes up,” he ordered, to find a less insolent though still very hard Charles looking up at him with wide, wondering eyes. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he promised as he drew Charles back over his knee, passing a hand across his bottom to check the heat level.

  
“What?” asked Charles when he came eye to eye with the ginger in the candlestick. He sounded exactly like he did when Hank designed something new and unexpected in the lab. Erik couldn’t help but grin at how Charles could easily switch from trepidatious to analytical when confronting something he didn’t understand, even when over Erik’s knee facing further punishment.

  
Erik silenced him with a smack. “You’ll speak when spoken to, Charles. In fact, I have a series of questions I want you to answer.”

  
Charles knew better than to reply until specifically prompted. “What did you do wrong when we first started, Charles?” He asked, delivering a hard swat to the right thigh.

“I…clenched, Erik. Sir.” Now that was unexpected. Hmmmm….

“That’s right. And what else?”

“I’ve been…trying to force you into me. And clenching to keep you out” Charles managed to say between spanks.

“Yes. And do you know how I’m going to punish you for that, Charles?”

Charles shook his head, fringe of hair brushing against the floor.

“Go on, guess,” said Erik, making Charles squirm. Silence.

“Charles.” Erik warned.

“You…you’ll cane me, like you’ve been threatening” Charles whispered, biting his lip as soon as he got that terrible sentence out.

“No,” said Erik, resolving that he would never, ever, cane Charles. The fear radiating off of him right now was not the anticipatory kind. “Look in front of you. Tell me what you see, what you smell.”

  
Charles dutifully shifted his gaze to the ginger. He’d forgotten about it in his fear of the cane. “It’s a bit of ginger. It’s quite a thick piece, really, the width of about two of your fingers and about 6 inches long. And it smells spicy even though it’s unpeeled.”

  
Erik gave him a moment to let that sink in.

  
“Wait…you’ve been promising that I’d feel a type of spice…you’re not going to rub that on me, are you, Erik?”

  
Erik could honestly tell him that he wouldn’t be rubbing it on Charles. “No, Charles, I’m not going to be massaging your arse with ginger root. Tell me, do you know what they used to do with ginger root during the Victorian period?”

  
Charles shook his head instead of replying verbally, but Erik chose to let it go this once, in favor of getting through his story. “Well. If a man or woman needed to be punished but had a history of clenching when being told not to, or squirming about during well deserved punishment, they would be figged.”

  
Charles wasn’t protesting yet, which meant he probably didn’t know what figging was or where that ginger was going to go. “A figging, Charles, involves taking a finger of ginger, like what we have here, and peeling it. Once it’s peeled, you cut a notch around the base.” Charles had begun to shift restlessly. Erik put a hand on his bottom as a signal to settle down.

  
“And do you know where that ginger goes, Charles?” he asked in a low voice, wanting to draw it out to torture Charles but not managing to keep the lust out of his voice.

  
This time Charles was shaking his head in protest. “It goes right up your bottom,” Erik informed him with a smirk, giving said bottom a light pat.

  
“They put ginger up there to keep the buttocks from clenching during a spanking. It releases its juices, making it absolutely burn when you clench. It feels like you’re being seared from the inside.” Charles moaned.

  
“There’s also the embarrassment factor. Sometimes the person carving the ginger plug would be different from the one inserting it. And the plug would stay in even after the spanking, so the entire household would know someone had needed to be punished. That someone had been bent over and forced to take a root deep inside, with no lubrication, so that the juices would have maximum effect.”

  
Charles raised his head, fixing Erik with a blazing look. Erik met his gaze and continued, “I imagine it’s even been done in this house before, Charles. I’ll bet the head butler punished his staff this way, and maybe also his wife. He'd fit the root up her arse and send her to the study to dust. Or make her sit on the chair I’m sitting on now to do her sewing with it in, pressing up into her. Or bend her over with her hands on either side of the window frame, head pointing out where anyone could see and her ginger-rooted arse sticking straight out to meet her husband’s palm.”

  
Charles’s breathing had grown ragged during Erik’s description of what the butler's staff and his wife had likely gotten up to in his house back in the day, but his pupils had gotten impossibly wider at the last bit. Erik was happy he’d sent everyone to train with Moira at the base. Charles didn’t need to know that, though.

  
“So Charles,” he said, “get all the clenching you want to get done now before that goes in. And keep your eye on it. I want you to watch it and think about where it’s going as soon as it’s peeled.”

  
And with that, Erik started spanking Charles again, wanting him freshly warmed on the outside before he was warmed inside. Charles gritted his teeth and obediently watched the ginger that would be going up him. It looked thick, but not unmanageable….and hey!

  
The knife had risen and began to peel the ginger in a continuous loop, releasing its spicy aroma. Charles looked back at Erik, who rewarded him with a spank so hard it almost rocked him into the ginger. It turned out that while Erik would have needed an extra arm to comfort him, he did not need an extra arm to peel something with which to torment him.

  
Charles watched the thing being peeled, thinking it was awfully like having to go cut your own switch, or sentence yourself to a number of strokes. There was just something deliciously awful about watching something being made to hurt you and knowing you were just going to have to take it when the time came.

  
Erik stopped the spanking when the peeling was finished and they both watched the knife cut the ring around the based that would keep it from being lost inside Charles. Finally, it was ready.

  
“Reach out and hand it to me, Charles,” ordered Erik. Yes, exactly like handing over the strap you’d be punished with, or cutting your own switch, thought Charles as he gripped the spicy, slippery, and surprisingly cool finger of ginger.

  
Erik kept Charles bent over his knee for the insertion, nudging Charles’s knees further apart so that he’d have easier access to his hole. And he had to admit that he loved the vision Charles presented, red arse cheeks split and legs spread wide. With both hands on Charles’s bottom, he pulled back the left cheek with one hand and aimed the root.

  
He teased it around the pucker first, getting Charles to slowly open, and then Charles started to slowly accept it, shocked at how he felt both full and cold. This was nothing like Erik, warm and pulsing. It was cool and hard and making his chest tighten, but not in a bad way, not yet.

  
“OK?” Erik asked him when he’d wriggled it most of the way in.

  
Charles, who didn’t feel he could speak, nodded. Erik wasn’t going to let him get away with non-verbal responses, especially when they were trying something new, so he spanked and Charles clenched around the root for the first time.

  
Charles hissed. “Well, I was alright until that,” he said ruefully.

  
Erik nodded, relieved. “Let’s give it some time to do its work. You need a little time before the next round.” Charles looked incredulous. “Oh yes. You’ve been completely impossible today and I’m not stopping until I’ve heard an apology from you. But first we’re going to stay here until you start to feel that a bit more.”

  
They remained in their respective positions in silence, Charles draped across Erik’s lap with the base of ginger just visible between his now closed cheeks.

  
Now Erik could rub soothing circles on Charles’s skin, quieting him while the burn intensified, telling him how well he was taking it every time Charles moaned, or started to hitch his breath in a sob.

  
After about 10 minutes of increasingly desperate squirming from Charles, Erik stood him up. Charles looked down at the ground; something about having the root in place made him not want to look anyone, let alone the man who had worked it into him, in the eye.

  
Erik tilted Charles’s chin up, startled to find his eyes shining. He found himself softening his order for Charles to stand in front of the window and brace himself on the frame even though Charles’s cock was standing stiff against his belly; it may have been hurting, but Charles was definitely still more than excited.

  
Charles’s mouth opened and closed and he became even more flushed, but he shuffled over to the window and bent over, resting his head on the cool glass and gazing out at the endless green, hoping to goodness that no one would happen by.

  
Erik got into position behind him. Charles bent over and waiting for him, arse already red and filled….it took his breath away. He wanted to be in Charles NOW. But first he’d have to wait until the cheeky chappie apologized, which said cheeky chappie had better remember was his cue to end the scene and get Erik’s cock in him. Maybe he’d better remind Charles.

  
“Charles” he said as sternly as he could manage. “I’m going to keep spanking you until you apologize. I know you’ve already had a lot, but remember, I can hold out longer than you can.” 'God, I really can’t,' he thought.

  
Charles nodded, knowing Erik was giving him his out, but he was so distracted by the idea that someone would walk by, not to mention the root in his arse that was making it hard for him to think beyond the burning, spreading warmth.

  
The first stoke took him by surprise and he had to work quickly to catch himself from bashing through part of the window. Of course he tightened, treating Erik to a vision of his open-mouthed gasp through the bit of reflection he could see.

  
At the next spank, Charles dropped his head against his folded forearms and shook, shifting his feet. After three more in quick succession, Charles cried out,clenching and unclenching his fists. “Erik,” he rasped. “Please. I’m sorry. I won’t be impossible anymore.” He did not straighten up yet, though, having learned that lesson before.

  
Erik drank in the sight of Charles bent over, sweaty and shaking in front of him for a moment longer, then walked over, slowly drew the root out, and brought Charles up and into a hard kiss.

  
To his surprise, Charles didn’t appear to be in sub space, the type where he could easily lose 20, 40, minutes wrapped quietly in Erik’s arms after some gentler sex.

  
Charles pushed Erik back on the bed, stripped him down and started to work himself down on Erik, who was laying back shocked but by no means saddened by this turn of events. “What’s gotten into you?” he laughed. Charles looked at him darkly. “You’ll see,” he replied.

  
And indeed he did, as soon as the ginger juices up Charles made themselves known. They moved faster and faster together, heads thrown back in an effort to get more air, to both ride and get rid of the burn. Afterwards they collapsed, red faced, tangled and panting. Erik caught a glimpse of them in the mirror and found himself smiling a smile he usually only saw on Charles’s face.  



End file.
